Dream woven futures
by Madhumalati
Summary: The pitfalls of wishful thinking....and the paths it leads down. A drabble set. First: the son. Second: the human. Third: the youkai.
1. The son

_**The son**_

Look to the future, he was taught. Move forward, always move, do not cling to the past or the present or the things around you; renounce attachment, and flow like the river; that is the secret of peace.

But Sanzo is not one who can have without holding; not one who can love without becoming attached. Caught in a teaching he holds close to his heart – one he has tragically misinterpreted – he curls around his pain, coddling and nourishing it.

Look to the future, he was taught; but sometimes, in the deepest darkest recesses of the aspects of himself he has strangled into silence, he weaves thoughts of what might have been. Brief, fever-bright images of love and acceptance and sweet, life-giving rain. And when he wakes, with dry tears in his eyes, he discards them, resolute, and pushes, pushes, pushes at his emotions – eager, at that moment, only to let go, but unable to, trapped by himself.

Do not cling, he lashes himself, but he clings to his non-attachment; it is his safety net, his cloak, his greatest weapon.

Renounce attachment: but it hounds him, persistent and childlike, and he succumbs when wariness is overwhelmed by weariness.

Flow like the river……but Sanzo's life has always been uphill, always been the path of greatest resistance, bitter and stubborn and defiant. He does not flow; he rages, kills, storms through his enemies with the single-mindedness of a blade. If he had moved with the flow he would be dead. He knows this, but he also knows that he has forsaken his master's teachings – betrayed his father – his life is a betrayal, his very existence is a betrayal, an unfair substitution. The weight of that guilt hangs over his shoulders even when the proof of it is removed.

He does not cry for his father.

Murderers do not have that right.

A/N: so, another set of not-really-drabbles, and moderately dark this time, not as nice as Concealment. I've written parts of Gojyo and Hakkai as well; expect updates soon; I'll update one of them depending on who gets more votes in reviews. Yes, I am Bored.


	2. The human

_**Part two: The human**_

Every morning, without fail, Hakkai reaches for his spectacles.

He is not a forgetful – or forgiving – man, and this omission irritates him. But he cannot stop himself, because that would be forgetting of a different kind. His youkai transformation corrected his eyesight, and yet he wears that monocle; it is a symbol, of sorts, of his unnatural transformation; neither youkai nor human – with access to great power without the madness that it entails for others.

It is control, because it hides Cho Gonou, the most tangible evidence of his existence; the eye he plucked out and flung at his opponent. It hides his expressions, allowing him to manipulate, misguide and confuse those who would understand him. The monocle conceals his past as the cuffs on his ears control his present. Between them they make up the fiction of Cho Hakkai.

Concealment, yes, and reminder; it keeps the circumstances of his present life vibrant within him. It says that he is not who he seems to be, that while the rest of his face reveals precisely what he wants it to reveal, that one void shows clearly what he is within.

It is warning as well, that Cho Gonou still lives, buried though he may be under a new name and a new attitude; that three men look out through one pair of eyes. That those who wish to cross him would do well to remember this: there is bloodlust in him, rage and feral need hidden by metal and glass.

Finally, it is nostalgia. One last remnant of hope, love and happiness that he holds close to himself. Memories of happier times, brief though they were. Memories of her, the one he loved, the one he failed, the one he lost. Whether his life contains joy or sorrow, whatever turn it takes, a part of him has died; this is his mourning, short hair and half a covering. It embodies his desire for that time. He longs and aches and yearns – he is most keenly aware that there can be no return, and with his innate pragmatism, he moves ever forward; but still it rests on him, proof and badge both, chosen carefully, with the litterateur's eye for symbolism. It is the one weakness he allows himself – the last vestige of being human.

A/N: Next: Gojyo. And I realise that this is somewhat connected to Trichotomy, but it wasn't intentional.


	3. The youkai

_**The youkai**_

Sometimes he would swear he can feel his scars stinging. Whenever he has to hear comments directed at his breeding; taboo, half-breed, abomination, bad luck……he can feel them burn, marks of shame and hate. Just below his eye; tainting his view of the world with their faint taunting presence. Sometimes he thinks he could give up anything, anything, to belong somewhere. It chills him – not the desire, but knowing how much he would pay for it.

Perceived inadequacy and shattering loss have focused all their inchoate intensity on this one point; that red hair and red eyes are the cause of all his misery. Perhaps they are, and perhaps not; he knows that he lacks the objectivity to decide truly.

Logically, he knows that if he were full youkai he would be insane today, his mind ravaged by the Minus Wave until no vestige of the easy-going, passionate and loyal soul that he is today remained. But logic has no place in the desires of the heart; it understands only memory and emotion.

And so he quells the brief pang that rises within him every time he sees his brother – that most keen proof of his failure, his utter inability to give the people he loves what they need. He defines himself by what he does, not who and what he is, because that would be a damning indictment of Sha Gojyo, one he cannot summon proof against, because he believes it himself.


End file.
